Office: (213) 283-9744

You and I Should Connect. Here's Why

As a gay author, you’ll find I’m good at a few things, and I enjoy a few more.

I’m great at ghostwriting. Getting paid to write for executives was my entrance into the Authors Guild and PEN, of which I am a proud member.

I’m most interested in gender identity, aging, and history.

I’m highly trained in storytelling, and my background in copywriting can make me quite persuasive.

I enjoy helping those who want to express the thoughts that roll around in their heads but still need to gain the skill to spill them into the world or even into the community of which we are a part.

In short, to determine whether I’m your writer, ask yourself if you want to speak. I can help you with that.

Oh, the guy in this photo is not me. He's a model in a licensed Adobe shot. But he does reflect one of my favorite groups—Satyrs, the Gay Bikers of LA. They were here before AIDS, during, and after. That is a piece of Queer history worth learning.

We Get Three Things When we Listen

We Cut the Crap, Get Focused, and Show Our Muscle

Cut the Fat

Do you think your message is sharp?

Can you tell your story before reaching the third floor?

Take Center Stage

When you speak, do people listen?

When you listen, do you hear the speaker?

Reveal the Unseen

What makes you unique?

Have you dug deep enough to have something worth hearing?

Success demands unique understanding

The truth always makes the best story. I start there.

Twenty years of experience in story building and copywriting has made me quick to dig out the truth. Fake stories smell bad. Authenticity smells good. When you write truthfully, people like your smell. It makes you trustworthy.

When I write for others, I keep my vision narrow. Focusing on the road ahead informs my strategy and writing. Only then is the destination worth the trip.

I Listen so others are heard

Why am I so fixated on listening? A monk who couldn't speak taught me.

A medical doctor taught students at the University of Toronto in Canada, where I studied biomedical ethics. He was a Trappist monk and my mentor when the AIDS virus hit the streets of Toronto on June 5, 1981. He taught me this secret. Shut up and listen for the mojo. (Which took me five years to learn!)

As a writer, I can only help if I can feel our hidden mojo. The invisible feeds our collective mojo. We find it in action, and it can disappear with no explanation.

To find that invisible mojo, we listen. It most often takes us on a quest.

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